Recently, my biggest nightmare as a speaker, coach and trainer came to pass:  I lost my voice. I mean, entirely. I couldn’t even muster up a pathetic, hoarse little whisper. It was utterly terrifying. And, of course, it couldn’t have happened at a worse time: Having just finished giving a Friday workshop out of state, I was poised to deliver four more trainings over three consecutive days, on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  Trying not to panic, I spent the weekend on total vocal rest, drinking as many fluids as I could manage. This paid off, somewhat: On Monday morning, my

As a young actor, I spent many happy hours watching plays so I could learn acting techniques from my talented colleagues. One night, I went to see a performance of a big, splashy new musical. The stage was filled with at least a dozen actors singing, dancing and acting up a storm, all working hard to be noticed. But only one of them commanded my full attention: Alittle girl sitting on a set of stairs in the middle of the action, reading a book. She was relaxed and fully present, unafraid to simply be her genuine self in front of an

At six feet tall, with a long, loping stride, I was a very good high-school runner. Which is why I felt pretty darn cocky as I strode up to the starting line on track and field day to compete in a sprinting match with several other girls from my school. I was positioned next to my friend Brenda, who was at least six inches shorter than me.  Brenda was nimble and athletic. We’d played basketball, kickball and other team sports together; but we’d never run side-by-side. And so, when the whistle blew and we exploded onto the track, I was